


The Power, The Memories

by Shay_Moonsilk



Series: Kingdom of Hell [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on 'Kingdom of Hell', Based on 'The Power The Status', F/F, Gen, M/M, Other, Pregnancy, Reference to mind control, Shenanigans, reference to execution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: A missing scene in Kingdom of HellDagon has been rescued from Lord Bane, and is recovering in Aziraphale and Crowley's home. She learns about how they've changed while she's been gone - some more then others - and discovers the truth about the time they nearly put Crowley in a tub of Holy Water.It's good to be back in Hell.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Hastur & Ligur (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Hastur (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Series: Kingdom of Hell [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446436
Comments: 16
Kudos: 161





	The Power, The Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Angel’s Guide to Hell: A Not-Nice and Accurate Telling by Aziraphale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143396) by [Shay_Moonsilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk). 



> Hey everyone! Just as I'm sure many of you are, I've been in a quarantine 'safer at home', which is what our Governor is referring to this as (same thing as 'shelter in place'). And work and school are just as intense as always, but this fic really poured out of me in the last week. It's something that I've been trying to write for a really long time - ever since I wrote the sequel to "The Power, The Status" and I'm SO GLAD I finally got to share it. This takes place during the sequel fic, between chapters 9 and 10.
> 
> This got inspired because I was re-watching the show as one does in this time, and thought "the demons in KOH know it was Aziraphale, and this will make them even more impressed with the angel. Let's play that out.

When asked about it later, Dagon wouldn’t be able to describe what it was like to spend the last eight months mind-controlled by an archangel. All she could remember was being attacked by Lord Bane, and everything going blank. Later she would learn that she had been forced into helping that bastard hurt Crowley and Aziraphale, because he decided he apparently knew better then their King and Queen. By Satan he was the _worst._ But now she was back, and she couldn’t wait to gently bully Aziraphale into dunking him into a tub of Holy Water. 

But this was all to be learned later. 

Waking up for the first time had been done in stages, slowly phasing in and out of consciousness. Of slowly opening her eyes to a blurry shape in front of her and a faint buzzing in her ear, and losing consciousness and closing her eyes again. Every few hours she would regain consciousness a little longer then the time before, always with a faint fuzzy outline of a dark suit and a faint familiar buzzing. 

Her head hurt like a bitch - like the worst kind of hangover. As if Hastur had gone after her head and muscles the way he went after the Eric's when he got bored. Angrily, and under great protest, she opened her eyes, but then realized Beelzebub was there, by her side. 

If Beelzebub was there, then that was the best part of the whole shit-situation. 

“Bee?” She croaked, too nauseous to get their whole name out. And it was a testament to how awful she must have looked because Beelzebub didn’t even discorporate her for the use of the nickname. An unofficial rule she and the Dark Council knew, only Crowley got to use ‘Bee’ as a nickname and not be horrifically murdered. 

“It’s me,” They said, looking uncharacteristically soft. “Are you there?”

“Where else would I be?” Dagon asked, and something like a  _ sob  _ escaped from their throat. 

“You know what’s been going on? These last eight months?” Beelzebub asked, and Dagon was shocked to see such emotion in their eyes. Beelzebub never showed emotion so plainly. Beelzebub was a professional. It was Dagon’s favorite thing about them, but Dagon had multiple favorite things when it came to the other demon. 

Dagon shook her head. Beelzebub looked like they would be sick. Slowly, in a gentle voice she has never heard them use before, they told her, “You’ve been mind-controlled. For the last eight months. By Gabriel.” 

“That’s a shitty joke.” Dagon snapped, but there was no laughter. Beelzebub’s face didn’t change. And Dagon knew that demons were cheats and liars, but Beelzebub had never - would never - lie to her. They didn’t lie to each other. Ever. 

“No, really?” Dagon asked, and Beelzebub nodded. “Well. Shit.” 

“Yeah,” Beelzebub said, nodding. “It was awful. No one here to talk to really. ‘Cept Crowley. And he sucks.” 

The other rule the Dark Council knew - they could insult each other. No one else could. 

“I’m sure. How am I back anyway? All I remember is that asshole attacking me. And how am I even still here? We all know that when you double cross-”

“-You murder in a double cross,” Beelzebub finished with her. Dagon snorted, and Beelzebub gave her a rare grin.

“I brought you back,” Beelzebub explained, “I used recognative calibration.” Dagon looked at them blankly. 

Beelzebub huffed. “I hit you really hard on the head.” 

Ah, well that explained it. Dagon nodded. “Oh, like the superhero movie you made us all watch all those times.”

“Shut up!” Beelzebub glared, shoving at her. “I’ll discorporate you for real, don’t tempt me.”

A new voice drawled from the doorway, “ _ Yeah _ , and neither of you are the professional tempter.”

Dagon tilted her head to see Crowley in the doorway, loosely holding a bottle of brandy in his fingertips. 

“You’re looking the same,” Dagon observed, looking him up and down. Crowley gave her a lazy salute. 

“Thought you might like this, take the edge off a shit couple of months. Satan knows it’s goin’ to waste in my house,” He said, handing Beelzebub the bottle. The prince unscrewed the cap, taking a long drink before passing it along to her. 

Dagon took a long drink herself, setting the bottle on the bedside table. “Thanks,” She said, taking a moment to look around the room. This wasn’t like any kind of room she would have expected to see in Hell. The walls were a pastel purple color, giving off a peaceful feeling that made Dagon feel unsettled. There was a dresser against the middle of the wall, that was a dark rich color. There were accents carved into the edges and border of the furniture, of serpents and wings. In the corner was a crib, with the same coloring and detailing that the dresser had. There were a few chairs and ottomans in the room that all matched the apparent theme. Also there were several random baskets in the room that did  _ not  _ match the theme, that were overflowing with toys. Some of the toys were soft stuffed animals, some looked like dog or cat toys, and a few items looked like stuffed corn husks in the facsimile of a doll. It was… adorable. Which didn’t sit right with her. 

“What kind of room is this?” She said looking around. “This isn’t where I Lurk.” 

“Nah, this is in my place,” Crowley said. Beelzebub gave a sarcastic laugh. 

“Alright, alright, ‘s in my place  _ with Aziraphale _ ,” Crowley corrected. “You’re in the second room we’ve been in the process of adding while you were gone.”

Dagon gave him a blank stare. “Why’s this here?” 

Crowley tilted a bit, and Dagon knew he was going to do that weird body thing where he made noises and floundered, but before she could silently beg Beelzebub to make him stop, a new figure joined the fray. 

“Oh, Dagon!” Now that was Aziraphale in the doorway, smiling brightly at her. “You’re up!” 

Her jaw dropped. 

The angel was  _ huge.  _ Aziraphale was balancing a tray, one that had biscuits and tea cups perched on top of it. But that wasn’t the shocking part - she had been to his little book clubs before Bane fucked everything up, she was used to snacks. That tray that Aziraphale was carrying was perched on top of a very  _ round _ , very  _ large  _ stomach. One he most certainly did  _ not  _ have that she had seen before. 

On instinct, and without a way to stop herself, Dagon blurted out, “What the fuck happened to you?” 

If looks could kill, Crowley would have ended her ten times over. Aziraphale’s face fell. “Is something wrong?” He asked. 

“She didn’t know you were pregnant, ignore her,” Beelzebub pleaded, as Crowley moved to take the tray from him. 

Dagon gaped, her eyes widening while Crowley ushered Aziraphale into one of the cushioned chairs, and looked over him in a way she would have called  _ fussing  _ if Crowley wouldn’t kill her on the spot for such language. 

“You’re pregnant?” She said, and Aziraphale gave her a small smile, resting his hands over his stomach. 

“Yes, due any day now,” He said proudly, and Crowley made one of his unintelligible noises. 

“ _ No _ ,” The other prince denied, and Dagon would bet a thousand big avocados that he was  _ nervous _ , “We’re not getting this one for another few weeks. Stop rushing it.” 

Aziraphale gave one of his happy little smiles - the kind of smiles that made Dagon and Beelzebub look away because they were too soft and romantic, and really, no demon should be subjected to such a thing so soon after waking up from eight months of mind-control. Instead, they each took swings of the bottle again, and Dagon gave what she thought was a nice smile. It was more of a grimace, but the effort was noted. 

“Congratulations,” She said, offering the bottle to him in celebration, so he could have a drink. Aziraphale looked alarmed, and Beelzebub lowered her arm, shaking their head. Crowley looked  _ furious _ . 

“Pregnant people can’t have alcohol,” Beelzebub explained, and Dagon made a surprised noise. “How weird,” She reflected. “That sucks.” 

Aziraphale snorted, accepting some tea that Crowley was offering. “Rather,” he agreed, “Would make it easier to deal with the hovering.”

“What, from him?” She asked, “Cause I’m sure he’s just being overbearing as usual.”

Crowley glowered at her, but Aziraphale chuckled lightly. “No, not him,” the angel started to say, but the rest of his remark was lost as two new people came to the doorway, with absolutely no grace or aplomb to speak of. Dagon hadn’t realized she would miss the ridiculous nature of the Dukes of Hell, but it was disturbing relief to see Hastur and Ligur in the entrance. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Hastur was growing angrily, but it wasn’t directed to her, but the pregnant angel shifting on the chair. “You’re supposed to be resting, and I’m supposed to be watching you, and if you keep wandering off-”

“He’ll get you with the bat again,” Ligur added, grinning maniacally. His eyes however, betrayed him - they were a sickly shade of yellow Dagon had remembered from when Aziraphale nearly died months ago, but seeing that the angel was fine, they shifted to a deeper shade, reflecting amusement. His words made Hastur turn a putrid shade of green, but Aziraphale laughed as if this were a long-standing joke. 

Aziraphale wasn’t the only one laughing - Beelzebub had also let out a chuckle. Crowley was not amused, and looked furiously at Hastur who seemed to want to take a Holy Water bath himself. 

“I would most  _ certainly _ not want that,” Aziraphale mused, taking a sip of tea. “Once was quite enough.”

“A bat?” Dagon asked, “Once before? What are you all on about?”

“Glad you’re up,” Ligur said absentmindedly, filching the bottle from the table and taking a drink himself. “If Hastur doesn’t stop going crazy over  _ that one,”  _ which was said to a nod towards an amused Aziraphale, “I’m gonna recalibrate my husband myself.” 

“Oh, but it’s so well-intended,” Aziraphale defended, “I think it’s rather lovely.” 

“I don’t need you name-calling me,” Hastur groused. He didn’t bother to sit in one of the chairs, or the ottomans. The Duke just collapsed to the ground, leaning back against the bed. “You’re making this whole guard job really hard for me.” 

“Consider it divine justice,” Aziraphale advised, giving a little smirk to Ligur that made Dagon’s jaw drop. She had known for a fact that the Duke had not particularly been a fan of his, they had just entered a mutual understanding of respect around the wedding. Times certainly had changed after all. 

“Divine justice for what?” Dagon asked. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked at her, surprised. “Oh that’s right, you wouldn’t know, would you? Well. Do you happen to remember the false trial that was done for Crowely, after he and I made sure the End Of Times didn’t?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, I had to run lines for it for all the crimes because Beelzebub didn’t want to do that much public speaking that day.” 

Crowley snorted and Beelzebub swatted at her. “I told you that in confidence!” They snarled. 

“Well,” Aziraphale continued, “The one in the trial, wasn’t actually Crowley. Before we had gone to the park that day, when you arrested him, he and I had swapped bodies. So really-”

“-We put  _ you _ on trial?” Dagon cried out, in disbelief. She looked around, taking in everyone’s faces. Crowley’s disgusting love and pride, Ligur’s amusement - which now shone in a warm orange, Beelzebub’s lack of care, but also-

Louder than she could have remembered laughing in a long time, Dagon’s whole body shook, rocking back and forth from the force of her laughter. 

“You  _ idiot _ !” She cried out, not even bothering to hide pointing and laughing at Hastur, “You were such a fan of his for decades and you hit him with a bat?” 

Although she was recovering from a shit-couple of months, Dagon knew this was going to be one of the best days of her occult life. 

Hastur looked annoyed, but embarrassed. Satan was it great to take the piss from another demon. Dagon was certainly enjoying herself. 

“I didn’t know!” He defended, “He acted just like the flash bastard, it’s not my fault he’s a great actor!” 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Thank you so much! I was working very hard to give a convincing performance as Crowley.” 

For a moment, Hastur wanted to return the smile, but that seemed to remind him of the bat all over again. He flailed his way to where Ligur had the bottle, and wrestled it from his husband to monopolize the drink in long gulps. Ligur leaned against the wall, seeming to want to have as little physical space in the future baby’s room as possible. 

“The details were pretty spot-on,” Dagon reflected, remembering the trial itself. “Saying that we should add a few plants. How dreary it all looked.  _ He,”  _ She said, gesturing to Crowley, “said all those things months before Armaggeddon didn’t happen.” 

Crowley flashed a tender smile to Aziraphale, that made the other demons feel a combination of nausea and jealousy. Aziraphale gave a little wiggle, but given the heaviness of his stomach it translated to more of a side-to-side tilt. 

“I know my Crowley,” He said confidently, “And I knew that he would be  _ most _ dissatisfied by the state of that arena. And most likely attempt to insult you all. Specifically Duke Hastur. Sorry,” Aziraphale added, though Hastur waved him off, continuing to drink. 

Aziraphale looked over Beelzebub, “You had a lovely chair in that theatre by the way, who made it?” 

“That would be me,” Dagon said, wishing that her limbs felt less like lead, because she was itching for a drink herself. “I like woodworking. When I’m really mad I’ll carve.” She brandished her pointed teeth, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if she meant she liked to carve by biting, or was just enthusiastic. He decided he didn’t need to know. 

“But the Usher,” He said, looking regretful, “Why did he need to die?”

All five demons made disgruntled noises at the mention of the demon that was actually destroyed that day. “He wanted to actually kill Crowley,” Beelzebub explained, “Challenged the King and Queen about it. Said a number of things to the Queen that Satan has decreed if any of us repeat, he’ll have us executed.” They paused a moment, and then looked awkward. 

“Technically… he was great friends with Lord Bane. We shzzould have zzeeeen thizz coming.” They turned to wrestle the bottle away from Hastur, who gave a protesting hiccup but was no match for them. Beelzebub finished it with a grunt of complaint, and Ligur left the room to presumably grab another bottle. 

Aziraphale knew that sometimes Beelzebub leaned into a sort of ‘flyspeak’ when nervous, but had never really seen it. It did however make Crowley frown. 

“Alright, you don’t need to go blaming yourself,” Crowley was saying, steering Beelzebub back to the bed. 

“It affected you all,” Beelzebub said, morosely. When Dagon made a confused noise, Aziraphale and Crowley took turns to explain how they had both been captured. Upon hearing how she had attacked Beelzebub and Crowley, Dagon was grateful to have Ligur return with two bottles. Ligur saw the look on her face and wordlessly passed her a bottle to monopolize. 

Dagon slumped. “Can’t believe you all didn’t murder me for this.” 

Aziraphale looked at her sympathetically. “Well if you and the rest weren’t going to kill Crowley over Armageddon, then you certainly didn’t deserve to die for being  _ attacked _ . Though, I wonder,” He took a sip of tea, appraising them all, “Did you all…  _ not _ want Armageddon?”

“Try managing ten million demons,” Beelzebub said flatly, “If we won the war and corrupted ten million angels, that just makes  _ my _ job harder.” 

“There’d be no fun in terrorizing people,” Ligur drawled, passing the second scotch bottle back and forth with his husband, “If everyone’s dead.” 

“True, true,” Aziraphale agreed, taking another sip of his herbal tea. “So Crowley was… doing what you wanted?”

“ _ No _ ,” Hastur glared, but at Crowley, “Because how would we have been able to stop anything if we didn’t know where the fuck the antichrist  _ was _ ?” 

Crowley glared right back. “It was the blasted  _ nuns _ that lost him, I’ve told you a  _ thousand _ times. And I would have been able to find him if  _ you  _ hadn’t burned down the bloody hospital!” 

“This isn’t Hastur’s fault,” Ligur defended, keeping the bottle out of the other Duke’s reach, “It’s  _ yours _ . It’s Hastur’s fault for hitting the angel with the bat. Compartmentalize your shit Crowley.” 

Dagon sniggered as Hastur slumped. “I don’t know how I didn’t realize it wasn’t you,” The Duke said petulantly. “No demon would have said ‘tickety-boo’.” 

Crowley snorted as Aziraphale flushed slightly. “Well, I was woozy, because you hit me,” He said testily. Beelzebub had an amused smirk on their face. 

“Admit it, you broke character.” 

Aziraphale huffed. “Well, it was easy enough to get back  _ into _ character, being so  _ rudely _ dragged Down Stairs. Not a spot of manners from any  _ one _ of you.” 

“Well duh,” Dagon snarked, “That’s not how we do it.” 

“Listing out all the crimes,” Hastur reminisced, “Nearly put me the fuck to sleep. Was  _ exhausting _ .” 

“It seemed like the only really significant crime was the one about killing Ligur,” Aziraphale pointed out. “But I remember him leaning against the screen, glaring at everyone not to crowd the viewing arena on the other side.” 

“Most demons are stupid,” Ligur shrugged, “We wanted a spectacle and to yell more then anything.” 

“Well you  _ certainly  _ got one such spectacle with  _ Michael _ ,” Aziraphale said distastefully, and everyone in the room did a groaning shudder. 

“Fucking wanker,” Crowley said while Beelzebub uttered, “Wank wings.” 

Wisely, no one commented on how they nearly said the same thing. 

“Working with Michael was the worst part,” Hastur groused. Ligur rolled his eyes, and they flashed an annoyed shade of green-yellow. 

“You barely ever spoke with her. I had to do all the bleeding calls.”

“Well she took you away from me!” Hastur protested. “And I’m a greedy demon. I wanted you for myself.” 

Aziraphale cooed loudly, and both of them shot glares at him that held no real anger. But even Ligur’s eyes even flashed to a light-red as he regarded his husband. “I  _ knew _ you liked me.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Ligur snorted, and Crowley cut in. 

“Good thinking, sending that Eric upstairs,” He said. Beelzebub gave an appreciative nod. 

“Thanks,” They said, “Didn’t want to send anyone  _ important _ , you know, in case they killed one of ours up there for good. But we didn’t think they would  _ actually _ mean to kill an angel. Just… flash the Hell Fire around a bit and make you cry.” The last bit they said to Aziraphale, who gave a pained little smile in response. 

There was an uncomfortable pause for everyone, and Dagon saw Aziraphale gaze at her liquor bottle longingly. She slowly began to offer it to him, but Crowley growled out a warning and she didn’t. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said gently, “For thinking of me like that, but we don’t want to test anything that could potentially harm the baby.” 

“I wanted to smite him,” Crowley spat, “When he said he wanted to hit you.” 

“He said fucking  _ what?!”  _ Hastur half-asked, half-shrieked, “As if the idiot didn’t know about all the stories? I’ll fucking discorporate him soon as I’m off-duty.” 

Aziraphale gave a groaning noise of protest, but Dagon noted that he pointedly  _ didn’t  _ say anything along the lines of ‘oh no, don’t’.  _ That _ was why he was their favorite angel. He was an angel, sure, but also  _ their  _ bastardly angel. 

Crowley gave Hastur an approving nod. “All I had to do was give him a proper stare-down. He realized it was a bad idea pretty quickly, thank Satan. But, yeah, feel free to discorporate him. I might join you.” 

“ _ Honestly _ ,” Aziraphale huffed, but he felt oddly touched. Eric never cared about discorporations, and usually got a new body in record time. But it was sweet to know that he had people that cared about him to this degree. And sure, Crowley probably needed to work off some pre-baby nervousness by getting some discorporations out of his system. 

Beelzebub watched as Crowley refilled Aziraphale’s tea, and tilted their head in thought. “Aziraphale,” They said, “I know why you wanted to take off the jacket. But. With all due respect. What the  _ fuck _ was up with the socks.” 

Hastur snorted, “Yeah. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. ‘Cause of how Crowley is a flash bastard and all. But… yeah what the fuck was up with that?” 

Aziraphale huffed. “It may have been a well constructed courtroom, but that floor was absolutely  _ filthy.  _ No  _ way _ was I going to stand there in my  _ bare feet.”  _

Crowley gave a fond sort of snort, and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s head. “You and your standards,” He reflected fondly. “I’m sure it made an odd picture. ‘You’ in the tub, your legs akimbo.” 

“It did,” Hastur acknowledged. Aziraphale shrugged, “Well, it protected my feet, so I couldn’t care less.” 

“Good craftsmanship, how you got in and played the room,” Ligur said, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise. 

“Oh! Well, thank you.” Aziraphale smiled at him, and Ligur tried to scowl in return. No one was fooled - his eyes had changed to a red hue for fondness - but everyone knew better then to say anything out loud. No one had a death-wish, or, a discorporation-wish. 

“Splashing the water,” Ligur said approvingly, “Was a good touch. 

“Asking about the rubber duck,” Dagon added, “I nearly laughed out loud.”

“I lost it when you made Michael miracle you a towel,” Beelzebub admitted. “That’s why I needed to shove you out before I really lost it and no one would ever let me live it down.”

“That’s true,” Hastur agreed, “I wouldn’t have let you live it down.” 

Beelzebub rolled their eyes, and out of solidarity Dagon gave him a glare on their behalf. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat a little, in between drinks. “I think I was most proud of my speech to you,” He said to Beelzebub, “When I made my stand for you to leave ‘me’ alone. I’m  _ usually  _ not the threatening one, but I worked really hard to channel my inner Crowley for it.” 

“It was good,” Dagon said, raising her bottle in toast, “I totally bought it. So did Bee, they were  _ terrified.”  _

“Shut it,” Beelzebub snapped, and Dagon knew she had gotten away with the nickname for the last time. 

Aziraphale seemed to get that as well. “Well,” He said quickly, trying to change the subject, “I think I knew who was  _ most  _ worried.” 

When none of the others said anything, Aziraphale gave a sly little smile. “Why,  _ Michael _ , of course.” 

This was met with a variety of snorts and guffaws. Crowley looked besotted, and Beelzebub couldn’t blame him. 

“You just wanted to stick it to your old bosses,” Crowley said with a fond smile. Aziraphale gave a pleased little smile, and did another wiggle that was more of a side-to-side tilt. 

The rest of the conversation was idle chatter, though the alcohol was starting to make Dagon sleepy. Though maybe it was also the last eight months catching up on her, or it was the odd peaceful feeling of lurking with friends that she trusted - which was very improper of her - but she could feel her eyes fighting her to stay open. A glance at the angel revealed Aziraphale was having a similar struggle. Crowley and Beelzebub, really everyone, noticed them fading. 

Hastur made a satisfied noise. “Right,” He said, wobbling to his feet. Ligur made to steady him, and he waved off his husband. “I think you’re finally going to sleep, so I’m gonna go Lurk somewhere else. I’ll be back tomorrow to keep you from wandering anywhere.” 

Aziraphale gave a tired snort, but still bade them goodbye with a sincere smile. Ligur and Hastur shuffled out of the room, and Dagon heard a door close in the distance, indicating that they both left the home. 

Things went a little fuzzy after that. Dagon blinked, and then realized that when she closed her eyes, they wouldn’t open after a while. There was a faint buzzing near her ear, and she could feel a hand gently carding through her hair. That felt nice, and she forced her eyes open so she could pay attention. 

Crowley and Beelzebub were talking in quiet voices, not wanting to wake Aziraphale, who was dozing in the chair. She heard glimpses of an upcoming execution, which made her glad to hear. 

“I want the bastard killed before the baby comes,” Crowley whispered, stacking the tea cups on the tray. He glared at them, and they quickly cleaned themselves. 

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a parent,” Beelzebub said, and no one was able to pull off gentle mocking like they could. 

“You’re going to have a nephew or niece,” Crowley shot back. 

Beelzebub shuddered, “Disgusting.” But neither demon missed the way they eyed Aziraphale’s stomach longingly. 

Crowley propelled himself up from where he had been sitting next to Aziraphale. “Welp,” He said, “I’ll put the tray away and get out of here. You and Dagon can stay here as long as you need. Least, ‘till the baby moves in.” With that, he took the tray from the room, and came back quickly to get Aziraphale.

“How long have I been here?” Dagon asked Beezlebub. 

The Prince shrugged. “Only two days. We’ll probably stay a few more, but there’s lots of hovering over the angel here. You won’t want to stay much longer then that.”

Dagon was sure Beelzebub had a point. Crowley came back into the room, and he gently kneeled in front of Aziraphale. He reached over with a hand, and ran it through his curls. 

“Angel,” Crowley said softly, “Wake up Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale made a sleepy noise that had no right to sound as cute as it did. “I wasn’t sleeping,” He half slurred, reaching for his husband. Crowley helped him rise to his feet, and wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him, holding his other hand. 

“Sure you weren’t.” Crowley grinned, and both Beelzebub and Dagon had to look away. There was only so much of them being  _ soft  _ that they could handle at one time. They  _ were _ demons afterall. 

“Oh, wait,” Aziraphale said, bidding Crowley to stop for a moment. He did, and the angel turned to them both. With another gentle smile, Aziraphale regarded Dagon and Beelzebub. 

“Dagon,” The angel said, “I’m really very glad that you’re back. Don’t worry about Bane. He’s not going to bother you ever again.” And although he was half-asleep, and leaning against Crowley to stay upright, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. It reminded her of when he, as Crowley, had threatened them a few short years ago to leave him alone. Dagon was reminded in that moment that Aziraphale was a scary motherfucker, and she was glad he wasn’t against her. Then he turned to give Crowley a kiss, and they slowly left their future child’s room. 

Beelzebub hadn’t missed the glint. “Fucking glad he’s married to Crowley,” They whispered, and Dagon made an agreeing noise. 

“Anyway,” Beelzebub said, “You should get to bed. Rest while you can before you can’t take it here anymore.” 

They shifted the blanket, and Dagon re-positioned, already feeling half-asleep. Beelzebub spread the blanket back over her, and she distantly heard them say, “Glad you’re back.”

Dagon was already asleep before she could reply, but then felt the sensation of one of Beelzebub’s flies landing on her cheek. While most would be disgusted, Dagon knew this was the other demon’s way of kissing her on the cheek. In her sleep, she smiled. 

It was good to be back in Hell. 

**Author's Note:**

> It sure is fun to be back in this hell-universe :) Let me know if you have any requests! I am 'Shay Moonsilk' on Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, and Discord :)


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